All the World for You
by Nichts
Summary: Ken's thoughts are bloody and confused. Will someone be there to help him?
1. bees

Disclaimer:  I don't own Weiss Kreuz.  If I did, I certainly wouldn't be writing fanfiction, now would I?  Author's notes are at the end. 

Warnings: language, violence, and mostly shounen-ai with just a little yaoi.  The latter two will be mostly in the next chapter.   

---

All the World for You 

part 1 

There are dead bees on the windowsill.  I suppose I never noticed them before because I never looked.  

It still bothers me, though.

The shop is packed this afternoon, since school just let out and all the girls rushed to see us.  Most of the girls are around Omi and Aya.  The ones flocking near Omi are the loudest and most annoying, and the girls clumped near Aya seem nervous.  Of course, if I was standing that close to Aya when he was having a bad day, I would be nervous too.  There were originally a few girls around me as well, but Omi asked me to move some plants, and they left.   I really don't mind if they talk to me, as long as they don't touch me.  I don't want to get them dirty.  Can't they see the blood?  The lives I have taken?  I can see it.  It is all over my hands, dripping, running, soaking, contaminating everything I touch.  They don't seem to see it, but I can.

I can't hide the blood, not from myself.

A loud squeal from one of the girls brings me back to reality.  Apparently, Yohji has returned from his fiftieth smoking break today.  His group of fangirls quickly gathers around him as he makes his way to where Omi is standing at the register.  How is it Yohji can make an act as simple as walking across the shop seem so graceful?  I wish I could be like that, sensual and graceful, coveted by most of the population of Tokyo.  Not just the female part, either.  Yohji is sexy, Omi is cute, and Aya is mysteriously beautiful.  Not me, though.  I'm just Ken.  I like soccer.  I'm clumsy.  I arrange flowers and kill people for a living.

I let my gaze travel over the shop, not really seeing anything.  Aya is working on a few special bouquets in the back, and Yohji is talking to Omi at the register.  The afternoon sunlight streams in from the front windows, casting a cozy light on everything.  Eventually my eyes settle on the bees again, silent and still on the white windowsill.  The little corpses stand out drastically from the peeling paint.  I found them when I removed a plant from its spot in front of the window a few minutes ago.  I can't get my mind off them now.  Why are they dead?  What did they ever do to deserve such a death?

Or maybe I am the dead one.  It is hard to tell.  What if all the blood I am covered in is mine?  I think that would be better than being bathed in the blood of others.

This time it is a gentle hand on my shoulder that brings me out of my morbid contemplation.  I turn to face Yohji, my eyes meeting his.  I make sure my face does not betray my thoughts.

It would not be good if someone found out what Ken Hidaka really thinks about.

"Ken," Yohji begins exasperatedly, "I have been calling your name for the last five minutes."  He keeps talking, but I am not really listening.

I wouldn't want to burden anyone with my thoughts.  They all have their own problems, why would they need to know about mine?

My eyes slide away from his, wandering downwards until I am staring at the bees again.  They haven't moved.  I didn't expect them to, I guess.

"Ken, are you listening?" he punctuates his words with a slight shake of my shoulder.  I look back up at him and grin sheepishly.

"Sorry, I was spaced out," I say innocently, "What were you saying?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds.  His expression is no longer annoyed, it almost looks like he is concerned.

Yeah, right.  Yohji Kudoh, slut of Tokyo, concerned about Ken Hidaka, klutz-extraordinaire?  Don't make me laugh.

"I asked if you wanted to come with me to pick up some dinner," he says finally. "It's a little early, but Omi and I are hungry."

"Yeah, I guess I'll come,"  I reply.  I notice now that the shop has emptied considerably, and Aya is nowhere to be seen.  The afternoon sunlight that used to stream in the windows is almost completely faded, giving the shop a desolate look.  I must have been staring at the bees for a quite a long time.

"Where'd Aya go?"  I ask, curious.

I get another strange, troubled look from Yohji.

"He left about fifteen minutes ago, he said he had dinner plans with his sister…" he pauses, and narrows his eyes slightly, as if he is trying to figure something out, "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

I grin sheepishly again and rub the back of my head. 

"Of course I'm feeling alright, I'm just a little tired."

He gives me another worried scrutiny and removes his hand from my shoulder, and then starts to turn away, but then pauses.  I look up from untying my apron to see why he stopped, and notice he is staring at the window.  I follow his gaze, and my heart seems to stop beating.  A tiny bee is clinging to the window.  I am fascinated.  It isn't dead. It won't die, it deserves to live.

Yohji lifts his hand, and I panic.  He is going to kill the bee.  I reach out and grab his arm frantically, yanking on his sleeve violently with both hands.

"Please don't kill it!" I whisper, my voice choking on the words.

"But Ken, it might sting a customer!" His face and voice show his confusion.

"Please!"  I know I am begging, I know I sound desperate, I know I have dropped my happy façade, but I can't help it.  Suddenly, I feel like I am suffocating.  When did the shop get so small, and empty?

His eyes bore into mine for what seems like an eternity, his hand in mid-air, both of mine wrapped about his arm. 

"Okay," he says softly, "I won't kill it if you don't want me to." 

He lowers his arm, and I let go of it.  My hands are shaking violently, and I can't stop them.  I can't breathe, I can't breathe.  I try to stretch the sleeves of my new red sweater over my hands to hide the trembling and the blood that covers them always.

I still can't breathe.  He is watching me, they are all watching me, and the dead bees are calling my name.

"I'll be outside!" I say quickly, and rush out the entrance and into the cool fall air as fast as I can.  I can hear Omi's startled exclamation from inside at my sudden exit.

I can breathe out here.  There is no scrutiny, no questions.  I take deep breaths, the chilled air piercing my lungs and clearing my head.  If I inhale enough, maybe all these thoughts will go away.

I walk over to one of the windows of the shop and lean my back up against it.  Lately I have been having these panic attacks more often than I like.  I don't know why, and I guess there is nothing I can do about it.  I suppose I deserve to be messed up in the head.  

I look up at the sky, searching for a reason for my new disturbing thought trend.  When I can't find one in the indigo twilight, I turn my search to my scuffed sneakers.  They've been through a lot, my sneakers, so they must be wise.

Yohji chooses to join me now, slamming the gate down loudly as he exits the shop.  He gives me another of those deep, examining glances, but walks toward me without commenting on my recent freak-out.  

"So, where're we going?"  I ask, trying to sound cheerful.  I think I overdid it because my voice sounds terribly unnatural to my ears.

"Omi wants us to bring back pizza," he replies.  The weird concerned look hasn't gone away, but at least he answered my question.  He looks away from me, up towards the stars I was searching a few moments ago.

"Why doesn't he come with us, and we can eat out?"

Yohji just shrugs and starts to walk around the shop to where his car is parked.

It sounded like a good idea to me, but hey, I'm crazy.

I follow him around to the alley behind the shop, watching my wise old shoes shuffle along the sidewalk, until we get to where our cars are parked.  I slide into the passenger seat of his car, his pride and joy, and he gets in the driver's seat.  

He turns on the engine, and I lean my head against the window as he pulls out onto the street.  The glass is cool and comforting against my forehead, and I watch the lights flicker by.  I love Tokyo at night.  Back when Kase was alive, I used to take walks at night, looking at the lights and the people and the stars.  It always helped me calm my mind, gave me a chance to think about peaceful things.

"What're you thinking about?" Yohji's voice interrupts my thoughts.  I'm glad.  Every time I think about Kase, another little piece of me dies.

I'm surprised I'm not completely dead by now.

"Kase," I reply without thinking.

He makes no immediate comment.  After a few minutes of driving in complete and horribly uncomfortable silence, we hit a red light.  The car is illuminated momentarily as he lights a cigarette. 

"I know what it feels like to kill someone you love," he comments.

"I never said I loved Kase," I protest, but my voice lacks conviction.  I don't even lift my head from the window.  For some reason, I don't really care if Yohji knows Kase and I were lovers.

In fact, the idea of someone knowing now makes me feel slightly better.  One less secret to keep.

"I can tell by the way you said his name," he continues.

I almost laugh.

"I don't love him anymore, I wouldn't even if he was still alive.  I don't know if I ever loved him to begin with, and I know for certain he never loved me."  It all comes out in a rush, and I have no idea why I say it.  Why am I telling Yohji this?  Why do I even think he cares?  Why would I want him to care?  Why are we talking about this in the first place? What happened to not burdening people with my problems?  Where are all these questions coming from?

We arrive at the pizza place before he can reply.  But right before we step out of the car, he says something I never really expected anyone to say.

"I don't see how someone couldn't love you, Ken.  He must've been really fucking stupid."  And without another word, he gets out of the car and walks into the pizza place.

"Well, shit," I mumble as I get out of the car, "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"  I resist the childish urge to kick the tire of his car in my frustration, and turn to walk into the pizza place, Yohji's strange comment simply adding to my already confused thoughts.

---

The evening went downhill from there.  While I was in the pizza place, I dropped my wallet, tripped over a loose floor tile, and walked into the same table twice.  I think I can blame my worse than usual clumsiness on Yohji's presence.  His weird comment made me very nervous.  I tried to avoid the guy, but since we were out getting pizza together, I wasn't too successful. 

To top the night from hell off, Birman was waiting for us with Omi when we got home.  We sat around the kitchen table and ate pizza until Aya got back, Omi talking constantly to cover the uncomfortable silence.  Yohji kept looking at me, I stared at my pizza the whole time, and Birman just agreed with whatever Omi said.  Once Aya decided to grace us with his presence, we came down to the basement, where we are now, to watch the tape.           

After the tape finishes playing, Birman flips on the light.  

"Any questions?"  

Nobody answers.  I am too busy staring at my socked feet and avoiding looking at Yohji to respond.  

She takes our silence as a "no" and hands the folder to Omi.  

"Good luck, Weiß," is her final comment, and she walks back up the stairs, high heels clicking on the metal steps obnoxiously.  

Oh, how dramatic.

We all watch as Omi walks over to his computer, the bright monitor the only source of light in the dimly lit basement.  Aya is leaning against his usual pillar, Yohji is lounging in the over-stuffed chair he insisted on buying, and I am sitting in one corner of the couch, as far from the playboy as I can get.  Omi opens the folder, examining its contents.  I glance back down at my socks, wiggling my toes around in their white cocoon.  I've never been a fan of colorful socks.  I don't really see the point to them.  I mean, who cares if your socks are colored?  No one sees them anyways, and even if they did, if wouldn't matter.

"Ken?" Omi's worried voice breaks through my train of thought.  I look up at him, meeting his worried eyes.

"Huh?"

"What do you think of the mission plan?"  

Oh crap, I didn't even realize he had been talking about the mission.

"Uh…great!" I lied quickly, "Can we go over it one more time?  I want to make sure I got it all."  I grin innocently at Omi.  It works, and he smiles back.

"Sure, Ken.  You and Yohji will enter on the north side of the building, and Aya and I'll come in through the south entrance.  I'll hack the system and cut the power and alarm systems before we go in.  We'll all meet up here," and he points to a point on the map displayed on the computer, "And I'll get the data I need while you guys take out the target."

"Sounds easy!" I say, but on the inside, I'm pissed.  Why did he have to partner me up with Yohji?  According to recent observations, the guy is crazier than I am, and that is saying a lot!  He might say more weird stuff and make me even more nervous than I already am.  I notice now that Yohji is staring at me from across the room.

Maybe he heard my thoughts?  Maybe I said them out loud?  I quickly avert my gaze back to my socks, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.  I don't really know why.

"The mission starts tomorrow at midnight.  It should be fairly simple,"  Omi's bright voice ends the briefing.  

"Great!"  I shout a little too loudly, jumping up from the couch and getting the hell out of the basement as fast as possible.

---

Author's notes:  I wanted to write something from ken's point of view, and I think he is a rather deep, confused, and kind of crazy individual, and this is what came out.  It will be a Yohji/ken fic, if it isn't obvious (I think it is), and will be short (only two chapters).  I also wanted it to be light, not too angsty, and I think this is as light as I can get without doing a full out comedy.  Comments and criticism are appreciated.


	2. rain

Disclaimer:  I don't own Weiss Kreuz.  If I did, I certainly wouldn't be writing fanfiction, now would I? No, I wouldn't. I would have much better things to do with my time.  Author's notes are at the end. 

Warnings: language, violence, and mostly shounen-ai with just a little yaoi.  The latter will be mostly in the next chapter.   

---

All the World for You

part 2

            I watch as smoke lazily floats upward, drifting in strange ribbon-like swirls.  A small gust of wind comes along, scattering the smoke into oblivion.

            I flick my half-burned cigarette onto the asphalt of the alley, and grind it down with the toe of my boot.  I have suddenly lost my taste for it.  Instead, I inhale deep breaths of the cool night air, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the brick wall behind me.  It is so silent out here, so peaceful.  I can hear the occasional noises of the rest of Weiß getting ready for the mission inside, but I prefer to be out here where I can think.

            I didn't mean to make Ken nervous, I really didn't.  I never meant to say what I had said in the car…but his voice had been so bitter, and his expression so forlorn that I couldn't help it.  That's all I wanted to do, all I ever want to do…make Ken happy.

            I suppose that's what being in love is all about.  Funny, I used to think it was all about sex.  Of course, I want that too, but this is different…deeper.

            I love Ken more than I ever loved Asuka, I know that now.  And I will be damned if I lose him like I lost her.

I don't really know when I fell in love with Ken Hidaka.  I think it was sometime after the murder of Kase and sometime before the final battle with Schwarz.  I realized it during that battle, when all I could think about was whether or not Ken was okay.  It's easy to see why I fell in love with the soccer-obsessed klutz, though.  He has this…way about him, that just makes me want to protect him, be there for him, always.  He is just so fuckably cute, too.  Every time I see him, I just want to drag him off to the nearest flat surface and—

"Yohji, are you coming?"  

I open my eyes to find Omi standing right outside the door.  Why is it he has to come out here just when my thoughts are getting good? 

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming," I reply, pushing myself off the wall gracefully.  Of course, it doesn't take much effort on my part.  I'm always graceful no matter what I'm doing, whether it is walking across a room or pushing Ken up against a wall and—

I cut off that thought as quickly as possible.  I really need to stop thinking like this, or I'll end up doing something on the mission that will make Ken really nervous.  I follow Omi back inside the shop and into the kitchen, where Aya and Ken are standing by the table.

            Ken...table…flat surface…

            Its going to be a long night.

            The object of my fantasy looks up at me, meeting my eyes for a moment.  He looks away quickly, pretending to be suddenly fascinated with his bugnuks.  The slightest blush is staining his cheeks.

            God, he is even cuter when he blushes.  I bet he'd really blush if he knew what I wanted to do with him right at this moment.  At any moment, actually.

            I reluctantly turn my attention back to Omi as he begins talking.

            "Everyone needs to be in position by 2355 hours.  It is 2330 hours now.  I will bring the systems down precisely at midnight.  Don't expect much resistance, according to Kritiker, the target's security is fairly relaxed."

            We spend a few more minutes going over our positions and the routes we will take to the target, which Omi had outlined for us on a large map spread out on the table. The kid is such an overachiever. He smiles brightly at us, and we head out the door, Aya and Omi heading for Aya's car and Ken and I walking to mine.

            Personally, I can't wait to get into position with Ken.

---

"Damn it, Ken! What the hell were you thinking?!" I yell for what has to be the fiftieth time. I slam the first aid kit down on the kitchen counter as the subject of my tirade tries to make himself comfortable on the table.

"Ummm… I wasn't thinking?"

"Damn straight you weren't thinking!"

I continue swearing as I rummage through Weiss's extensive kit. I have dealt with enough bullet wounds in my career to know what I am going to need to patch Ken up.

The stupid soccer-punk managed to get shot on what was, quite possibly, the easiest mission we have had in months. Not only had he completely disregarded Omi's plan, but he had ignored my warnings as well. He had run straight into a clump of armed guards and ended up getting shot in the leg. I suppose it serves him right. While Aya and Omi finished the mission, I had to carry Ken out and come back to the shop. To top it all off, it had started raining. I am so angry, I can't see straight, as the saying goes.

That's bad, considering that I'll be stitching up Ken's leg soon. 

I finish obtaining my medical supplies and head over to the table, still swearing under my breath. Ken is perched on top of it, looking entirely uncomfortable with the situation. He had ripped his jeans off above the wound so he could see it more clearly. The bullet had only grazed the lucky dipshit, but it was a deep graze, above his knee. Under any other circumstances I would be quite thrilled to have Ken on the table with his pants half off, but things just aren't going my way.

"I can fix myself up, ya know?" Ken interrupts my musings, sounding a little bit pissed. I hand him a couple pills for the pain and he dry-swallows them.

"Like hell you can," I retort. The guy is even worse at first aid than Aya is.  "You can't even tell a band-aid from a thermometer."

His eyes flash angrily.  

"Yes I can! And I don't understand why you're so pissed at me, anyways. Its not as if I got anyone killed or anything. Who cares if I get shot?" His voice trails away uncertainly, and he looks to the side.

"I care, dumbass, and so does the rest of the team." I grab one of the sterilizing gauze pads and quickly clean the wound with it. He hisses softly in pain, but doesn't comment on my statement. Once I am sure the wound is sufficiently clean, I grab one of our nice needles and a length of suture thread. Without stopping to consider if the pain pills have taken effect yet, I begin closing the wound. Ken makes no sound, so I can only assume he is in the wonderful land of pain killer bliss. 

When I am done stitching his leg, I look up. To my surprise, Ken is staring straight at me. His brown eyes are clear and seem to be staring into my soul, as if my entire life is a book for him to read. I push my sunglasses up from where they had slipped on my nose, and grab all the used medical supplies.  Ken simply watches as I clean up the mess. Not long ago, I would be completely surprised by a quiet Ken. But lately, he has acquired a habit of lapsing into silence for long amounts of time. It only serves to heighten my concern for his mental well-being. Sometimes, I think Ken has had the most tragic life out of the four of us. Yet he somehow manages to continue smiling, to go on being the cheerful and friendly guy we all know and expect. It is only recently that he seems to be preoccupied and depressed. 

"Hey, Yohji?" his voice breaks into my thoughts as I continue cleaning off the table.

"Hey, what?" 

"Ummm….last night, in the car…what did you mean?" 

I pause in my cleaning and look up at him. His eyes are no longer clear, and he blinks at me sleepily while waiting for a response. Apparently, the other effect of the pain pills is kicking in.

"I meant exactly what I said, Kenken," I reply, not caring if he protests at the use of the nickname. To my surprise, he doesn't.

"Well…okay…I think you're wrong, though. I was always the stupid one, not Kase."

"You aren't stupid, Ken," I say softly as I head over to the sink to wash off my hands. I get no reply, and when I look over towards the table, I discover that he fell asleep. Once my hands are clean, I walk back to the table. Being careful not to touch the wound, I lift the sleeping boy into my arms. I carry him up the stairs and into his room, and gently lay him down on his bed. After I have arranged him comfortably on top of the sheets, I linger next to his bed. I rarely get a chance to watch Ken sleep, although I fervently wish it was different. He looks so peaceful, so calm. 

The sound of doors slamming brings me out of my happy reverie, and I realize that Omi and Aya have returned from the mission. I hear someone running up the stairs, and suddenly Omi pokes his head in the door. 

"How is he?" Concern is evident in his voice, and his large blue eyes show how worried he is.

"He'll be fine, the bullet grazed him pretty badly,  but I stitched it up," I reply quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping assassin. "Did the mission finish alright?"

Omi nods and then yawns.

"I'm going to bed, I'll write the mission report in the morning," he says, and then he is gone.

I look back down at Ken. His brow is creased in worry, as if he is having a bad dream. What does he dream about, I wonder. I reach out slowly and brush his bangs away from his eyes. The brown hair is silky and soft beneath my fingers, just as I always imagined it would be. He sighs softly and his face relaxes. Giving in to temptation, I press a chaste kiss to his mouth. Then I quickly stand up and exit the room. 

---

            I watch as Omi steps out of Ken's room and quietly shuts the door. He looks up at me, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. I usually don't come out of my room until noon, unless I'm pulling the morning shift. The shop is closed today, because of the mission last night. This morning, however, I got up early to check on Ken.

            "The wound looks alright, but he has a slight fever," the boy begins, approaching me quickly, "But it can only be expected with a wound like that. Being in the cold rain didn't help much," he added, giving me a look as if it was my fault.

            "Its not my fault it started to rain," I retort. I stretch lazily and head into Ken's room, ignoring the look Omi gives me and shutting the door behind me. His room looks exactly the same as it did last night, except for the chair next to the bed and an ashtray on the small table. Omi must have pulled the chair over when he took Ken's temperature. The kid must have realized I would be coming in here and placed the ashtray there, too. I can see the gray clouds through the window above his bed, and the rain seems to make the room depressing.

            I walk over to the bed and sit in the chair, my eyes never leaving the sleeping boy on the bed. He has a worried expression on his face, just like last night. As I watch, the expression turns to fear and he begins to shake his head back and forth, mumbling. Concerned now, I reach out to grab his shoulder and shake him awake. As soon as my hand brushes against him, however, he sits up and screams.

            "Don't touch me, Kase!"

            "Ken! Ken, its me!" I grab his shoulder and give him a rough shake, trying to bring him back to reality. He turns towards me, his scared brown eyes meeting mine. His body slowly relaxes, and I remove my hand. Neither of us say anything. He tears his eyes away from mine and looks up towards the ceiling. I fish a cigarette package out of my jeans and light up as he lays back on the bed. Deciding that he has had enough time to recover himself, I speak.

            "Care to tell me what that was about?" 

            "Care to tell me why you're here?" he replies bitterly, answering my question with a question.

            I take a drag off my cigarette before responding.

            "I'm just checking up on you. You've got a fever. How's your leg?" I keep my voice casual.

            "Fine. Go away." 

            "I'll go away after you tell me what that was all about."

            He doesn't respond. I watch as he shifts his gaze from the ceiling to the window beside him. His head is turned away from me, but I can see his face reflected on the rain-streaked pane.

            "Why do you care?" he finally asks, his voice no longer bitter. Instead, he simply sounds tired.

            I shrug, even though he can't see me. Its not a sincere gesture, though. I know exactly why I care. A few more minutes pass away in silence before he speaks again.

            "Kase…my God, I don't know why I'm telling you this, you're going to think I'm such a pansy," he pauses momentarily, as if he is deciding to go on, before continuing, "Kase…used to hit me."

            He laughs bitterly and quietly. I can almost hear the self-loathing in his voice.

            "He always told me I deserved it. I suppose I did. I deserved it because I loved him. That was my big fucking mistake."

            I watch as tears slowly begin running down his face. I had suspected something like this, but hearing him say it is a different thing. I want to kill that bastard Kase. Too bad he is already dead.

            "So now you know my big secret. Now you can run and tell everyone all about it. Tell them how not only is Ken Hidaka gay, but he got beaten by his lover."

            "Do you honestly think I would tell anyone?" I ask, my voice soft. I am hurt that he would think that.

            "Why else would you want to know?" he replies, his voice angry.

            "Because…because I care."

            Ken turns his head towards me, and I can see clearly now his tear-streaked face and the angry look in his eyes.

"Why? That's the second time you've told me you care. I want to know why. I told you about Kase, so I think you owe me."

He is right, of course. I do owe him. I should tell him how I feel. He was honest to me, so I should finally be honest to him. I still don't want to say it, though.

"Because…" 

Why are the words so hard to say? I have said them countless times. I have said it to people I can't even remember anymore, quick fucks in the dark.

Perhaps its hard because this time, I actually mean it.

"Because I love you."

There, I said it. I watch as his eyes widen. He doesn't respond. I look down at my cigarette and realize that it has burnt halfway to the filter. I reach over to the table by Ken's bed and put it out on the ashtray there. When I look back over at Ken, he is still staring at me.

"Why?" he whispers suddenly. There is no anger in his voice now. Its almost as if he doesn't believe me.

"Why?" I parrot, and then laugh. 

"Isn't it obvious? Because you're you. You're kind and you like kids. You're the boy next door, the type of guy girls want to take home to meet their parents. Besides, you're so fuckably cute." 

I watch, amused, as he blushes deeply. It feels kind of nice to finally be able to say these things to him.

"You're even cuter when you blush."

He still doesn't say anything. His hands fidget nervously with the blankets, as if he is scared of what I might do next. 

"You didn't deserve any of what Kase may have done to you, and he sure as hell didn't deserve a guy like you." His eyes narrow slightly and he looks down at his hands.

"And let me tell you, he should be glad he's dead. Because if he wasn't, I'd hunt him down and torture him slowly," I add in my happiest voice. 

He looks back up at me, and I can't resist. I reach out slowly and gently wipe the tears off his face. His eyes widen again, like he is scared of me.

"I would never hurt you, Ken. I would never force you to do anything you don't want. I just want you to be happy." It's possibly the sappiest thing I have ever said, but it's true. I would give all the world to him, just for him to be happy. The boy is turning me into the fluffy, romantic type.

But the smile on his face is worth it. It's a soft, hesitant smile, and it's beautiful. I smile back.

"Now go back to sleep. You've got a fever, in case you forgot."

His eyes close slowly and his face relaxes. I lean back in my chair and watch him sleep. Maybe I'll get to watch him more often in the future.

author's notes: ummmm…long time, no updates.sorry. i've got excuses, though! school is one. yep. i'm working on some original stories, too, so that's another excuse. yeah. anyways. thank you goes out to those who reviewed the first chapter, and once again i apologize for the long update time. i'll have the epilogue done soon. comments and criticisms are appreciated.


	3. dusk

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the Weiss plot, but I do own this little story. Take it and die.  
**Warnings:** angst? fuzz? cute boy-love? yeah, that's it. author's notes are at the end.

* * *

All the World for You  
Part 3

I cleaned the dead bees off the windowsill today. They're resting in a little white box in my pocket. I'm going to take them outside, to the back alley, and burn them once I get off work. I'd bury them, but there's no yard around the flower shop to bury them in. I think Omi would get upset if I buried them in a bag of potting soil. Besides, a funeral pyre seems like the right thing to do.

The shop has been almost empty today. Most of the girls have gone home. Omi's at his apartment, cramming for an exam. Aya's in the back room, taking inventory before we close the shop for the night, and Yohji's running some late deliveries. That means it's up to the dead bees and me to take care of the front of the shop until closing time. I've over-watered two plants, spilled fertilizer on the floor, and sold one bouquet of roses to a business man in a hurry. Eventful.

I'm not sure what to do with myself anymore. I don't know why I exist. I don't know why I even try. Sometimes I just want everything to end, sometimes I think I've had enough.

But sometimes I think that, if I keep living a little longer, things will get better. And maybe they will. Yohji...is helping, I think. Knowing that someone in this world cares about what I feel like makes a difference. Before, it was just me. I was part of Weiss, but I was by myself. In my head, I was all alone.

But now, when the things in my head become too much, and I just want to scream, I can talk to him. Because he says he cares. He says he loves me. And I think I believe him. I've known him too long to doubt him; I know that he would never lie to me. I know that I trust him more than I trust any of the other members of Weiss.

I'm not sure if I love him, I'm not sure if I can ever love him. I'm not sure that I know what love is anymore. I thought I loved Kase, but I don't know. I mean...what is love? People talk about soul mates and best friends, they talk about couples destined to be together. I'm not sure if I believe any of that. Yohji knows this; I told him the day he told me he loved me. That was almost a week ago.

Since then, things have been...different. He stays in at night. He finds excuses to be around me, or to touch me. I catch him staring at me from across the shop, and I suppose it's not something he just now started doing. But it's something I'm just now noticing, because now I'm staring at him all the time.

I think I like it. I like the fact that he wants me, loves me. I've thought about it almost constantly since then.

Aya comes out of the back room, breaking my thoughts and bringing me back to reality. The plant I've been watering has overflowed onto the table, leaving trails of dirty water and dripping onto the floor. That's the third one today.

Aya grabs his apron and a towel from one of the supply shelves and comes over to where I am. He takes the hose from my hand and shoves the towel at me, looking rather angry. I can't blame him; I've created a mess.

"Once you clean that up, you can go," he says, turning away from me to water a different plant.

I don't bother responding; it's not necessary. I quickly run the towel over the table and then the floor, absorbing as much of the murky water as I can. It's not perfect, but it'll do. Besides, I really want to go. Technically, I'm not supposed to leave until Yohji gets back, so someone is around to help Aya clean up before closing, but I guess Aya is pissed enough that he doesn't want me around right now. That's fine with me. He can clean by himself.

I toss the towel onto the front counter and hang up my apron. I pat my pockets to make sure I've got both the bees and a lighter before heading through the supply room and out the back door. Once I'm in the alley, I walk past where all the cars are parked. Beyond the cars, but before the shop's dumpster, there's a flat piece of asphalt scorched with black. I'm not sure what happened there, it's been scorched since I came to work at the shop, but I've decided that it's the best place for the bees. The sun is beginning to set, turning the sky brilliant shades of red and purple. The perfect atmosphere for a funeral.

I pull the box out of my pocket and open it up, just to make sure. They could have come back to life; they could have escaped from the box and could be running rampant in my pants. But they aren't. They're laying dead. One of them has fallen apart, his head in one corner and the rest of him in another. Sad.

I place the lid back on the box and set it down on the asphalt. I sit down in front of it, my back to the shop. I pull out the lighter and reach forward, towards the little box of little bees. I can hear the back door to the shop swing open as I flick the lighter. Orange flame dances along the edge of the box before catching fully. The side of the box wilts instantly, turning a blackish color as the fire spreads along. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them, wrapping my arms around my legs. I'll stay here to make sure the bees are alright.

Footsteps echo in the alley and I know that Yohji has come out and is standing behind me. I know it's him because there is no one else. No one else would come out here, no one else would care.

"I'm burning bees," I tell him without turning, without waiting for him to ask. He needs to know, so I tell him.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, and I hear the snap of his own lighter as he lights a cigarette. I shrug, my sign to him that he can do what he wants. I really wouldn't mind if he was to sit next to me. In fact, I think I'd really like that.

Yohji takes a few more steps, until he's next to me, before he sits down. I don't look at him as he makes himself comfortable, his legs out in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. His cigarette dangles from one hand, its end glowing the same color as the box. He's close to me; close enough for me to lean over and rest my head on his shoulder if I want to. If I want to. I think I want to. I think such odd thoughts nowadays.

I watch the smoke rise from the dead bee-box as I lean against Yohji. His shoulder is warm and, despite the fact that he's not nearly as fluffy as my pillow, I decide that it's a good resting place for my head. I can feel-hear him sigh, and he runs his fingers through my hair. Small ashes float up from the now-crumbling box, landing on my pants and clinging to my hair and sweatshirt. The box collapses on itself, making a weak hissing noise. Smoke rises up and disappears into the dusk, taking with it dead bees and thoughts.

I think I like this. I think, maybe, that I can be happy like this. Yes, I think I can.

* * *

_If I was to tip the world upside down for you  
__What would you think, what would you do?  
__Would you be impressed with this new worldly view?  
__Or ask that I change it all back for you?_

_If I was to break all the rules for you  
__What would you think, what would you do?  
__Would you love me back like I dream you do?  
__Or pretend I do not exist to you?_

_If I was to give up my life for you  
__What would you think, what would you do?  
__Would you lie and say that you never knew  
__That I've always felt this way for you?_

_I would give up all my world for you  
__Just to know you love me too._

* * *

**  
Notes:** so....yeah. I've been working on this little thing a long time. Four hours, now. I waited nine months to write this freaking epilogue, and it only took four hours. jesus. It's not very long, either. But that's a-okay. Thank you to the people who reviewed, and I apologize profusely for taking so freaking long to make this epilogue. Maybe, in another nine months, I'll fix the formatting on the previous two chapters. Heh. Anyways, thanks for reading. 

Oh. I almost forgot. This story was inspired by a poem I wrote about a year ago. It's up there above the notes. I figured I should include it here in the epilogue...just in case anyone cares...or not. sigh. The story itself morphed enough that it's not really like the poem anymore, but I included it anyways. it's called 'all the world for you.'


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